


diminuendo

by combeferrer



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Freeform, M/M, Rehabilitation, Second person POV, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combeferrer/pseuds/combeferrer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>the dynamics of your world are fucked up and it’s all fortissimo and no piano. you wish it would all narrow into a diminuendo</p>
</blockquote>grantaire's alcoholism goes too far and he needs help. enjolras is there.
            </blockquote>





	diminuendo

i. it is raining in buckets and you are curled up on the side of the road in a ditch. your car has crashed into a tree and you are not hurt but you desperately wish you would have just died. you think you are crying, and it is confirmed when your chest heaves and you are gasping and hyperventilating. you are so drunk that you can hardly move but to pull out your phone and text a quick sos. he is here sooner than you expected, and he kneels beside you and rubs comforting circles on your back. the world fades. 

ii. the world reappears and you are inside and the light is glaring and it smells like disinfectant and you feel like you are dying, and you probably are. he is here again, and he looks at you with impossible gentleness, and you hate it. he should hate you, but he doesn’t, and you hate you, and so should everyone else. you feel exhausted and worn and rickety like a barn door, but he is marble and alabaster and deified in every way. the world fades. 

iii. the world reappears once more and you are still in the glaring light of what must be hell and you are not feeling any better. your limbs feel like stone, and your mouth is dry like cotton. there is water on the nightstand, but you are too weak to lift your impossibly heavy arms. he is still here, but he is asleep in the chair by the wall. his golden hair is in disarray and he looks like a child when he is sleeping. you hate that you have caused the dark circles colored heavy under his eyes. try as you might, the world will not fade out again, and you stare at the ceiling, wishing it would fade out forever. 

iv. he does not awaken slowly, he awakens all at once, alertness returning to his piercing blue eyes immediately, and he must know immediately that you have been watching him, so you dart your eyes away clumsily and your face turns red and hot. you can feel his gaze on you and neither of you are speaking, mainly because you do not know what to say, and he doesn’t know how to say it. you are sitting in silence and it is more deafening that the screech as the metal of your car collided with the tree in your plan b, more deafening than the sound of the pills you had opened that day in your plan a of ending everything, more deafening than the sound of them hitting the side of the bottle as your hand was shaking while you lifted them, more deafening than the sound of them all crashing to the floor because you were too much of a coward to go through with it. you realize that everything is deafeningly loud, and nothing sounds like a whisper anymore, and that realization is startling. the dynamics of your world are fucked up and it’s all fortissimo and no piano. you wish it would all narrow into a diminuendo. 

v. you fell asleep sometime between the end of the world and the beginning, and when you wake up, he is gone. you are convinced that he was not there in the first place, but your phone vibrates and it is him asking if you want coffee from the machine in the waiting room. you tell him that you do, and when he returns he hands you a coffee, black, with two sugars. you are unsure of how he knew how you took your coffee, but he did, and you take a sip of the scalding liquid. it is watery and weak, but you drink it anyways. it burns your tongue, but you don’t care, and he is sitting down again, and he looks uncomfortable and sad, and you feel like it is your fault, so you do not look at him any longer. you check your phone and you have hundreds of unread texts from your friends, but you don’t respond or read them, suddenly very tired at the prospect of communication. you do not finish your coffee. 

vi. when the nurse enters the room, she informs you that the blond boy went home, and he would be back after school. you had forgotten until now that it was monday and all your friends were at school and you ruined everyone’s weekend, and he never got to do his homework, and he had grades to uphold, whereas yours were already in shambles. the guilt felt heavy and thick on your person, covering your limbs, sticky and sickening. the nurse looks at you and it is patronizing and painful, and despite yourself, you glare at her. 

vii. he comes back, as promised, but he is not alone. all of your friends crowd into the room and they are fidgety and uncomfortable, trying to pretend that nothing is wrong, and you try to smile, but it is weaker than the coffee and he notices, and everyone notices, but no one says so. 

viii. you are finally released, but only to have to go to rehab in a week. you arrive at your house and your parents do not look at you, and you are sure that you have finally alienated them completely, but you don’t really care because they don’t care. he comes to your house the day you are released and sits on the edge of your bed and rests his hands on his knees and just watches you exist, and you should feel like a zoo animal, but you do not because it is wonderful to be looked at after a day of having your parents avert their eyes. he tells you that he is glad you are going to get better in a soft voice that you hardly recognize, and you nod slowly. his fingers are tapping distractedly on his knees and you cannot help but watch them, but suddenly you feel as if it is something you are not meant to see, and you look away in embarrassment. 

ix. it is the day you are going to rehab and your friends are here to see you off. they are all smiling and telling you that they know you can do it, but you feel sickened, because they don’t seem to realize how weak you are, and they don’t seem to realize that you cannot do it. he is there and he pulls you aside and tells you that he believes in you, and it is too hot and you can’t see, and the world is wet and watery and your face is hot and your body is betraying you as tears fall down your face. he pulls you into a hug and you bury your face in his shoulder and you feel like all the water in the world is pouring from your eyes and your tears are soaking his nice red blazer. your friends are all there still and they are trying not to stare out of respect for you, but they aren’t exactly successful, but you are beyond caring at this point and his hand is petting your hair gently, as if you are breakable, but shards cannot shatter further, and you try to tell him this but your mouth cannot form words and it sounds more like incoherent blubbering, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

x. you are back from rehab and it has been a very long month, and you are worn and creaky and feel impossibly old. you arrive home and he is there. he has skipped school, you realize, and you don’t understand why he has bothered, because you are certainly not worth the attention, and before you can stop yourself, you tell him this, and he looks entirely too sad when you say this, and he embraces you, causing you to drop your bag in surprise. you wrap your arms around him and you feel like you are about to cry, and it seems as though his embraces make you cry. the house is too quiet, softer than anything you have heard, the world has softened and even the voices in your head that tell you that you are worthless have quieted a little. the world has narrowed into a diminuendo, and even when you are sobbing, it is gentle and soft, not like the crashing waves of grief, but the soft lapping of fresh relief.


End file.
